


Canary in the Coal Mine

by fab_fan



Series: Through the Years [7]
Category: Motherland: Fort Salem (TV)
Genre: 1950s, 1960s, Alternate Universe - 1950s, Alternate Universe - 1960s, Alternate Universe - Historical, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Canon-Typical Violence, Chaos, F/F, Fist Fights, High School, Historical, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, Mayhem, Sex, Violence, Young Love, dodgers - Freeform, good parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:41:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27042160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fab_fan/pseuds/fab_fan
Summary: Would that be her in a few years?Leaving?What would her pop do if she left for Fort Salem? Got on the bus and never looked back? Wrote a few letters and ended up in Coal Town’s only cemetery? Six feet down and next to her mama?She shoved her hands in her pockets and rocked on her heels.What if she didn’t go? Stayed? Did like everyone else and worked in the mine. Breathed in the coal dust that the people down in the shops said made you strong. Made you tough. Gave life to this town and the people inside it. Got her own helmet and lunch pail like her father.
Relationships: Raelle Collar/Scylla Ramshorn
Series: Through the Years [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2065368
Comments: 78
Kudos: 206





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A combination of trying to write something and the soundtrack for October Sky magically appearing.

_The smell of freshly baked cornbread, just out of the oven, crispy and crumbly and buttery as could be, filled her senses. The thick yet airy dough was succulent and savory, making her nose twitch and mouth water something fierce. A quick scoop of a knife had big slabs of hand churned butter melting fast on the warm golden treat, a hearty hunk of bacon spitting grease just out of the cast iron skillet next to it, salty and lip smacking good. A batch of fresh molasses drizzled on top and a strong cup of coffee to wash it all down. Sitting down at the kitchen table, the sounds of the summer breeze whistled through the nearby oak trees and the hint of color from the blooming flowers that dotted the land offered the best view of the county for miles._

_A perfect morning._

_Raelle could almost taste the first bite of breakfast, the chunk of bread dripping onto her hand not more than an inch from her mouth. The sugary goop glistened as it rolled slowly down the sides of the crackling cornmeal._

_Goddess, this was a dream._

“Raelle! Get up!”

Jerking awake, the food disappeared in an instant, replaced with the darkness of the backs of her eyelids. The anticipated taste of the delicious meal was still heavy and pungent on her tongue, a sharp contrast to the dry gummed up cottonmouth causing her lips to smack together irritably.

Goddess. It was a dream.

With a groan, Raelle carefully blinked her bleary eyes open. The dull muted greyish silvery blue that heralded the hours just before dawn greeted her with a coldness that skirted under the quilt and cupped her face in icy phantom hands. A layer of frost painted the window looking out into the field, and a cracked arch of ice crept along the glass, spreading out like a glacial spider’s web.

“Raelle!”

“Coming!” she scrubbed harshly at her face, roughly wiping away the remnants of sleep. A painful twist in her gut was soon followed by a deep grumble and a clenched churning. She swallowed back against it and rolled out from underneath the hand stitched blanket, the pattern a balm whenever she took the time to look at it, a reminder of family long gone.

A muttered “Shit.” filtered out of her lips as her bare feet touched the cold floor. Stumbling in the dark, the sun still not yet risen, the pale beautiful array of pinks and oranges still a ways off, the short girl tugged off her sleep shirt. With practiced ease that was more instinctual than thoughtful, she neatly folded the garment and set it on top of her scratched and weathered wooden dresser. The top of the furniture was fairly bare, only a small stack of old yellowed letters and a lone photo frame, a smiling couple, her parents on their wedding day, decorated the tiny space. Rolling her shoulders and letting out a silent yawn, she creaked open a drawer and pulled out a fresh set of clothes, removing the rest of her pajamas and slipping into the cool cotton and denim. She rolled up the cuffs of her jeans near her ankles and dragged on a thick pair of wool socks, a tiny hole forming near the big toe and underneath the heel of the right foot, a string beginning to unravel near the top of the left. The plain white shirt settled across her slim shoulders, draping down to hang over her slender frame. The sweater came next, a hand-me-down from one of the neighbors as payment for the time Raelle helped cure her toothache.

That sure had smarted for a few days. She could barely eat, only soft mush getting past her throbbing jaw.

Rubbing at the phantom pain, she slicked a hand through her tousled hair and marched out of the room.

Her pop was near the front door, already dressed for work, the black under his fingernails as permanent as the wedding ring on his left hand. His dinged up metal lunch pail was in his left and his dented helmet in the right, a certain look in his eye when he spotted his only daughter.

“Picking up an extra shift tonight. Might try to stop by for supper.” He nodded at her, “You be good at school today, alright? Hit them books like we talked ‘bout.”

Raelle snorted. 

What was the point if she wasn’t going anywhere?

Stay there and end up like her pop or take the oath and end up on some battlefield somewhere. Dead like her mama. End up right back where she started, only this time in a pine box.

“Ok, Pop.” Raelle tried to give a bleak smile.

It didn’t much work.

He stared at her, “Rae,”

“I know.” Raelle lifted up her hands, knuckles still bruised from a fight she didn’t start, “I’m not the one causin’ trouble.”

“I know you aren’t.” He shrugged, “You know folks ‘round here.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Dying folks in a dying town. Too stubborn to see what was right in front of them. Poor and tired and wary of anyone different than them. Willing to tolerate the half-witch and her civilian father, but the family was still not who they were used to, even after all these years. Even after Raelle had spent every moment of her life there, scuttling around the outside, peering in from time to time but content to be by herself more times than not. She’d been to her fair share of parties and could hold a conversation with the ladies and fellas hanging around the store, but she wasn’t the one holding hands in the bleachers during the football game or playing cards in someone’s kitchen while listening to the radio blare out the latest tune.

No, that wasn’t her.

The Collars weren’t those kinds of folks.

Not the type of folks who people didn’t whisper about or the teenagers at the local high school let get by without a roughing up every now and then. 

Nodding, Edwin let it go. “Alright. Make yourself some breakfast and get to school, now. You hear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.” He opened the door and was soon gone, a distant shadow in the dawning day.

Raelle watched him go, stared at the back of the closed door.

Would that be her in a few years?

Leaving?

What would her pop do if she left for Fort Salem? Got on the bus and never looked back? Wrote a few letters and ended up in Coal Town’s only cemetery? Six feet down and next to her mama?

She shoved her hands in her pockets and rocked on her heels.

What if she didn’t go? Stayed? Did like everyone else and worked in the mine. Breathed in the coal dust that the people down in the shops said made you strong. Made you tough. Gave life to this town and the people inside it. Got her own helmet and lunch pail like her father.

Shaking away those thoughts, she walked into the small kitchen and opened the refrigerator. 

Not much more than a lump of leftover meatloaf and a few brown apples. 

Maybe she could wait till later.

Her stomach seized at the thought. She’d missed supper the night before, holed up in her room re-reading her mama’s letters and sneaking out to walk in the moonlight, taking in the golden grass underfoot as it shimmered in the stars’ glow. 

Grabbing the plate, she quickly sliced off a chunk of the cold meatloaf and pressed it between two pieces of white bread from the loaf on the counter in the bread box. Tucking into her meal, she chewed and made her way to the front door. Crumbs coated her lips, and she took another bite, unhooking her coat and crawling into it and her old beat up pair of dusty boots before heading out the door.

The walk to school was long but peaceful. A few miles of tranquility where it was just her and nature. Some folks lived close to town. By the school or the mine. Not the Collars. They’d set up home a little ways out, amongst the silence of the trees and hills. 

It was chilly, autumn turning to winter in the blink of an eye. Colors changed fast those days. Green turning to yellow to brown. Leaves fell and the dew turned to frost, a touch of snow almost, on the tips of the grass and the tops of the gravel. A fine mist gathered around her knees, sparkling and yet stoically obscure, like a rain cloud dripping onto the ground and turning the crumbling earth into mottled mud, both eerie and inviting, hiding treasures and nightmares alike.

Polishing off her food, Raelle smacked the crumbs from her hands and wiped them on her thighs, leaving a smudge on the coarse denim.

She didn’t quite want to go to school, but it was still required, unless she dropped out.

Quit.

She’d thought about it more than once.

But, her pop wanted her to go. To get an education. Her mama had wanted the same. Said so the last time she wrote home. The last time she saw Raelle, that Raelle saw her. Standing in the doorway ready to go, bags packed and uniform on. She looked straight in Raelle’s eyes and told her to work hard and to trust herself. That she was strong. Powerful. Needed to be as smart in the head as she was with her hands. That the Work was strong inside of her, she was going to do great things, but she also had to have the smarts to go with it.

Then, she turned around and walked out the door. Disappeared like a gust of wind.

Didn’t come back till the train brought down the cheap wooden box with a flag draped on top.

So, Raelle went. Attended classes on subjects that had no meaning to her. What was the point of reading about ancient history when she lived in the middle of nowhere? Where the history was whatever the mining company told them it was. Nothing existed before the first hole was drilled into the side of the mountain. What was the point of algebra, numbers and letters muddled together, when she was going to end up like her mama or her pop? Weren’t no use for numbers and letters in either of those two places.

Sniffing, she knew she was drawing close to town. The bitter stinging yet soothing freshness of the forest and fields was being replaced by the lip curling nose wrinkling smell of oil and sweat and sparking iron. The trucks moved nonstop from the dumping grounds and the town’s people changed shifts, some going home for a quick nap while others took the long ride down toward the center of the earth.

Feet finding the dirt of the road, she followed a tire track, skipping around the grooves until she had to take a turn near the store and another turn near Mrs. Smith’s place.

“‘Mornin’, Raelle!” called out Mrs. Smith, perched as she always was on a fold out chair on her porch, knitting in hand and hair frazzled as could be.

Raelle lifted a hand, “Morn’, Mrs. Smith.”

The woman watched her, scrutinizing eyes on the smear that stained her jeans and the touch of breakfast still clinging to the corner of her mouth. 

Mrs. Smith was the preeminent town gossip. She knew everything before anyone, and the white picket fence phone line was strong as could be.

“Goin’ ta school?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am.” Raelle nodded, stopping near the gate that led to the small walkway and the bright blue clapboard house, paint still drying from the latest coating.

“Heard there’s a new girl. Family just moved in not two week ago.”

“Oh?” Someone moved there? Why? Maybe come down from the head office up north. Company people.

“Don’t know much about them. Quiet. Keep to themselves.” She looked a bit unhappy about that. Her welcoming committee of pie and chatter must have not been well received.

Raelle backed away before she could get roped in to some scheme, “Sorry, Mrs. Smith. I gotta get goin’ before the bell rings.”

“Oh, yes. Of course, dear. Have a good day. Stay out of trouble.”

Trouble. “Yes, ma’am.”

Raelle felt the woman’s eyes on her as she started walking, the gaze not leaving until she was too far away to be seen.

In a few minutes the entire place would know the witch was in town. 

Huffing, Raelle hunched her shoulders.

She didn’t see the hand until she was dragged off the walkway and behind a nearby home.

“Where do you think you’re going?” a boy sneered, lips like curdled milk and eyes glinting with disgust, hair poofed up and slicked back as he loomed over her. Behind him stood a few more kids, knuckles cracking and smirks in place.

Swell.

Just swell.

“None of your business.” Raelle shoved him away, already feeling the strain in her hands as they morphed into fists.

“None of our business? Ya hear that, fellas? Little witch thinks she ain’t none of our business.”

“Back off, Chet.” Raelle warned.

“What ya gonna do? Cast a spell on me?” He guffawed, “Ain’t not magic allowed ‘round here. Think we ought to remind ya of that.”

The first punch was aimed at her gut.

She danced out of the way, swinging her own fist and clocking him in the eye. 

He yelped in pain, hand flying up to cover the injury as the other kids rushed in.

At least she got one good punch in before she was tackled to the ground.

* * *

Raelle sat on the back porch, bag of frozen peas held up to her swollen eye and split lip. 

She didn’t quite make it to school that day.

Her pop was not gonna be happy.

She wasn’t sure how she was going to explain the dried blood on her clothes and the torn apart hands. 

She couldn’t even fully open or close her right one now.

She tried flexing it again.

Hurt like hell and didn’t move none.

Gritting her teeth, she pulled the half melted bag from her face and poked at the bruising.

“Don’t take that off yet.” a kind voice called out from behind her.

Raelle peeked over her shoulder at the woman. She was short but didn’t seem to know it with how she held herself confidently. She had an air about her. Friendly. Kind. Long curly hair done up and glasses that covered soft eyes. 

Raelle didn’t know nothing much about her, hadn’t seen her around before, which meant she was new. Everyone knew everyone in town, and this used to be the Calhouns’ place. They’d left when Mr. Calhoun was killed in the mine. Slate of graphite sliced straight through him. Not even a fixer could save him. 

That had been a sickening sight.

Raelle still had nightmares about it.

But, the older woman happened upon a battered Raelle dazedly wheezing and tripping along the road and bundled her into her home. Politely pressed the bag of vegetables in Raelle’s hand and helped her sit outside, the cold of the morning doing wonders to soothe the ache in her head.

Raelle carefully touched the peas back to her red and purple tinged face. Licking her lips, she winced at the sting from the open cuts, “Thank you, ma’am.”

“No thanks needed.” She didn’t talk like anybody from around there. Her voice was clean and clear, not muddled with tobacco or molasses. The woman settled down next to Raelle and gingerly grasped her chin, turning her head this way and that to get a look at her.

Raelle looked like a right ol’ mess.

“What’s your name?” the woman asked warmly, producing a wet wash rag and dabbing at the blood.

“Raelle Collar, ma’am.” the girl mumbled with a flinch.

The woman tutted to herself, “Well, Raelle, if you’re hungry, I was about to start making breakfast for myself and my husband. Nothing too fancy. We still haven’t been able to get out much. But, I am sure we have the ingredients for a few eggs and toast.”

Raelle’s fingers curled into the wood of the porch, the ledge digging into the creases, “Ya don’t have to feed me, ma’am. You’ve done more than enough.”

The woman stopped cleaning one of the cuts marring her cheek and gave her a look, “Are you hungry or not, Raelle?”

Her stomach answered for her.

The woman gave a firm nod and went back to wiping the dirt from the bloody slice across her cheek, “It would be nice to have you join us for breakfast. We’re new, and we don’t know many people.”

“That’ll change soon enough, no need to worry there.” Raelle flinched as the feel of antiseptic stung, “Mrs. Smith will be over faster than anything.”

“That’s the woman with the pie?”

“Yes, ma’am. You got yourself a fence, so you’re already part of the phone line.”

“Phone line?”

Raelle gestured at the fence, “Mrs. Green will come on over there when anything happens. Ya will probably hear ‘bout me not making it to class by this afternoon. You’ll be expected to tell Mrs. Johnson over there.” She pointed at the other side of the yard.

“Well, guess we better eat up so we have our energy to make it through all that.” The woman stood up, holding out a hand and helping Raelle clamber painfully to her feet.

“Thank you.” Raelle mumbled again, glancing down at her boots.

She didn’t quite know how to take the kindness being shown to her. It made her ears turn red and the frustrated anger that welled in her chest die down a bit.

“Come on, how do you like your eggs?” The woman led her back into the house. “My daughter is about your age. She likes them fried, but I have a feeling you’re more of a scrambled type.”

“You have a daughter?” Wait...hadn’t Mrs. Smith mentioned that?

“Yes,” The woman paused, mulling over her words, “Scylla. You will most likely meet her at some point. She started school today.”

Scylla. Raelle rolled the name around in her mind. 

She liked it.

“Come along. You can help me. Grab the eggs and butter, please. And, keep those peas up to your eye.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

* * *

The night was dark, the hours ticking by. Raelle could hear all the people gathered at the Gregson’s, swapping stories between sips of beer and munching on hamburgers, hot dogs, and potato salad. A good ol’ cookout. Talks about the high school football season and what the president was doing.

She shook her head and leaned back, elbows resting on the porch one step up behind her, legs kicked out and face tilted toward the stars.

Her pop was back at the mine, working a double, and the house was too quiet.

Raelle didn’t like it that quiet.

It left her alone with her thoughts and the ghosts of people she couldn’t see anymore.

Let her get angry and sad until she itched to hit something or cry.

She’d found herself shyly standing outside the Ramshorn’s door, shoulders bunched and hands hidden in her jacket.

“Hi.”

Raelle looked over her shoulder to see startling blue eyes and just about the most beautiful face ever known. “Hi.”

Scylla was just as pretty as the first time they met, Raelle helping the Ramshorns fix a busted pipe the Calhouns forgot to take care of when the teenager strolled in with her books clutched in hand and a curious glance at the unfamiliar puffy and blackened face hidden beneath the sink, dirty t-shirt riding up to show the slope of her ribs and a smooth stomach.

The second their eyes met, though, both had a small smile on their face. Scylla made a comment that had Raelle biting her lip...and swearing when she reopened the cut that had just closed up.

Raelle’d found herself trailing everywhere after the brunette ever since.

_Raelle eased down onto the grass, resting her back against the rusted old flag pole planted in front of the school building. Hands dropping onto the thick grass, she weaved her fingers through the decaying stalks, plucking up one and mindlessly twisting it around her knuckle, “Why do you get to skip out on all the fun?”_

_Scylla peeked up from the book open in her lap, the color of the binding and abundance of pages letting Raelle know it wasn’t the novel assigned in any of the English classes. “I already read the assignment.”_

_Raelle nodded her head, “Oh.”_

_Sucking in her bottom lip, Scylla closed the book and set it aside. She allowed her hand to drift down to the earth, and the tip of her pinky finger nudged Raelle’s, “Come with me?”_

_“Where’re we goin’?” Raelle watched her stand up, doing her best not to blush as Scylla’s hand swiped over her own. She scrambled to her feet when the brunette shot her a smirk, her belly tumbling about at the look._

_“Anywhere.” was her answer, the twinkle in blue eyes as spellbinding as any piece of Work._

_Raelle couldn’t help but let her gaze float over her. Flutter along the length of her delicate throat, the dip of her chin, the way she looked like a goddess in a simple blouse, freckles hidden from view._

_“Come on. Live a little.” Scylla slid back a step, then another, the teasing twist of her lips luring Raelle to follow._

_The blonde brushed off the back of her jeans and jogged after her, their shoulders bumping playfully as she caught up. “Anywhere?”_

_Scylla nodded, their hands tapping against each other, “We could go to the beach. Up into the mountains. Canada. Mexico. Sail on a boat to far away lands.” She turned her head to catch Raelle’s gaze, a seriousness weaving into her light tone, “We can go anywhere. Be anyone. Go somewhere safe.”_

_In that brief moment, Raelle believed her. Would go just about anywhere she led. Kept walking until her shoes were nothing but tatters and the world ended._

_For one second, she let herself forget that she didn’t have a choice._

_And, that the witch’s mark hidden beneath loose brown hair didn’t leave Scylla without a choice, either._

_Where was safe?_

_As if sensing the despair creeping in, without warning Scylla scooped the blonde up into her arms, twirling around as Raelle laughed, clinging to her shoulders. The world was a dizzying kaleidoscope of color, melding together into nothingness, the only thing she could concentrate on, see, was Scylla’s face, tender and happy._

_When Raelle’s boots touched the ground, she swayed into the older girl, the feeling sparking in her chest making her eyes dip down to pale pink lips before meandering back up to meet searching blue eyes. She ignored how she took Scylla’s hand and refused to let go._

_She couldn’t ignore how Scylla let her._

_How she held her hand too._

The girl ambled over to her, sitting down near her head, “You weren’t in class today.”

Raelle shrugged, scratching at the scar near her jaw, “Didn’t much feel like it.”

The girl raised an eyebrow.

“What?” Raelle asked.

“For someone who hates this place, you don’t do anything to get out of here.” 

Raelle mashed her teeth together, “Ya don’t understand.”

“What? That you’ve resigned yourself to some fate because you refuse to think of anything else?”

“Scylla,”

“It’s a terrible plan.” Scylla raised a hand, cutting her off, “You are more than you think you are, Raelle. You are more than this place. More than some oath.” 

“Hate to break it to you, beautiful, but there’s no way out.” It was either the oath or the mines. Front lines or staying home with a generous dispensation fought for by the Company’s lawyers and culling coal till she was old and grey.

There were no choices.

Not for witches.

Not for people like her.

Either be a witch and military or a civilian and worker. Slave to the Army or the Company, there was no in between. Die above ground or below, it was all still the same.

Scylla stared at her for a long moment, “I know a way.”

Frowning to herself, Raelle blinked up at her.

A way to what?

Scylla’s eyes were brighter than the night sky as they shone down on her. They told her something she didn’t quite understand. A secret just out of reach.

Raelle barely noticed Scylla was leaning towards her until she felt lips against her own.

The kiss was soft.

Quick.

Chaste

Their first.

Little more than a tender touch.

Raelle swore she saw the universe flash before her closed eyes, bursts of color and life reborn in a single breath.

A hundred lifetimes in a second.

Scylla broke away when the nearby crowd roared, a blinking dot flying through the sky overhead as the radio crackled and screeched.

Sputnik.

Raelle didn’t hear any of it.

All that existed in the entire galaxy was the girl next to her.

Cupping a quivering jaw in her palm, Raelle pushed up and kissed her, fire racing through her blood and heart thundering like a storm of fury. 

One kiss turned into two, then three. Hot. Insistent. Needy. Wanting. Becoming hungrier and hungrier each time she took a gasp and dove back in, retasting the mouth that was sweeter than honey.

Raelle tilted, pressing Scylla down onto the porch, nestling against her as hands wrapped in the faded fabric of her jacket and held on to the nape of her neck.

She felt so good. Tasted like heaven. Sounded like bliss. Was anything and everything beyond the world around her. A dark dream in the lit up nightmare. A lone flower sprouting up between the rocks, colorful and special and delicately strong. Warm and pliant and there. A throaty whimper trembled against Raelle’s chest, urging her to dive in deeper, crave more, wordlessly beg for and take whatever she could, whatever Scylla was willing to give.

Kiss her until the taste of the other girl’s lips never left her mouth.

Hands fumbling with the button of Scylla’s jeans, Raelle ripped her mouth away, nipping a path to the side of her throat, licking and sucking at the soft skin. She mouthed away the chill of the night and bit gently at the flushed heat spreading over the snowy white landscape, the pounding of Scylla’s heart like the thrum of the goddess’s presence in the world against her teeth. 

Scylla gasped, fingertips tangled in golden locks, “Raelle.”

Raelle kissed just behind her ear, smudged fingers dipping below the waistband of the other girl’s jeans.

Scylla’s grip tightened as her hips canted up with a soft mewl to meet the searching touch.

Panting, barely able to think beyond the feel of the girl beneath her, surrounded by everything Scylla, mind, body, and soul, Raelle nuzzled her temple, “Ok?”

Scylla nodded, “Yeah.” Her breath hitched as Raelle caressed her, stroked through wet heat, coated her fingertips and knuckles in sticky slickness sweeter than dripping molasses on a warm summer morning. Raelle inhaled the scent of the sky and the world that seemed to seep out of Scylla. The dirty choking smell of welded metal and black dust hadn’t touched her yet, hadn’t infused into her like it had everyone else.

Raelle couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t focus on nothing but how this felt so right and so good. How she had never felt something so soft and strong. Never wanted to melt into another like this. Feel someone, something, lose herself, disappear in the way she slowly connected with Scylla, became a part of her, felt herself become a part of the supple witch.

She never wanted like this.

Scylla tipped her head, catching Raelle’s lips in a kiss. “Stay with me.” She pushed down as Raelle thrust up, lashes fluttering prettily at the sensation.

Raelle kissed her.

Scylla kissed her back, drinking her in. Her words were swallowed with a hushed husky breath.

“Run away with me.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She trusted Raelle.
> 
> She loved her.
> 
> Coal Town meant Raelle and Raelle meant Coal Town. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What?!?! What is this?!?! Don't blame me. Blame the October Sky soundtrack that won't stop playing.

Dodgers didn’t form attachments.

They didn’t have relationships. They didn’t make friends. They didn’t fall in love or date or go further than a quick romp or roll in the hay with someone before packing up and leaving.

Dodgers disappeared.

They didn’t stay. 

They couldn’t.

People disappeared all the time, went away, and the Ramshorns had been that way ever since Scylla could remember.

They never stayed in one place long enough to set down roots. To get more than a cursory feel for a town or city. To gather some money, make a few connections with other dodgers and sympathizers, and then move on.

She always moved on.

Never cried. Never wept for a lost innocence or stolen past. Why would she? She had her family, and that’s what mattered. She wasn’t going to be upset because of them.

She was upset because the army made them this way. The Accord made them have to leave, never safe, because of conscription. Because, if you didn’t want to fight, to bleed, to die, for people who looked at you with suspicion and hate, then you were a liability, a criminal.

Nothing more than lowlifes meant for the gallows.

The Ramshorns always left, and Scylla never let herself be bothered by it beyond the deep seated distrust and anger directed at those who made her life have to be this way, made her family’s life have to be this way - the army.

Civilians.

General Alder.

She didn’t care about leaving. She never had anything she left behind. To leave behind.

Until now.

Because, they had moved to this tiny town in the middle of nowhere, a small mining town surrounded by endless trees and rocky hills. A town where the air was crisp and filled with the smell of steel and the nearby river. 

A town she found herself attached to.

She was used to the sound of the bell and whistles calling for a shift change at the mine. To the sound of trucks full of coal rumbling by and causing the ground to shake. The way neighbors gossiped and always nodded or waved a greeting as she walked along. The dirt that nipped at the ends of her slacks and painted her boots.The small company run store that had the giant jar of gumballs, more reds than any other color, right next to the old copper register and the ancient radio crackling on in the background about some baseball game. The schoolbooks that were tattered and old, outdated, and the teachers who taught with a glimmer in their eye that spoke of regret and guilt because their students were only biding their time until they slipped into their helmets and dropped beneath the earth’s surface in a rickety ramshackle elevator.

She was used to the way the sun reflected through the trees, playing peek-a-boo as she strolled down the paths or was driven in the Collar’s old pickup truck that hardly ever worked, most times leaving Mr. Collar to hitch a ride from the men coming into town from cabins further north and Raelle to hike the long forgotten railway tracks, her sticking a thumb out never leading to any sort of help because there was never anyone to notice. She was used to the way the hills and mountains soared up into the sky. The crunch of leaves as they collided with her steps, dried and the color of sunsets and soil. The way the thin streaky clouds seemed to settle in, a perpetual haze that offered a sense of mystery and wonder to nature’s offerings, ghosts that haunted the barren fields and swept through the thick forests.

She was used to a charming crooked grin and the feel of thin yet muscular arms around her waist. A ticklish nose nuzzled into the crook of her neck, the softest of kisses promising so many things neither could put into words. Blue eyes the color of the sky on cloudless days, shimmering light blue that could calm her and ignite her with a flicker of an eyelash.

She was used to holding a calloused palm in her own, fingers laced together, a perfect fit. Used to sitting at the kitchen table, her parents puttering around while she shared secret looks over a snack and textbooks. She was used to hands sliding confidently beneath her shirt as lips kissed her like she was the most precious thing on earth. Stuttered gasps in her ear as slick heat enveloped her fingers, her own trembling breaths echoing as deft fingers slipped and curled and circled just right.

She was used to Coal Town.

She was used to Raelle Collar.

Where Scylla used to keep to herself, head down, reading books and not drawing attention to herself, she now walked proudly next to her girlfriend, smirking as she worked to make a cute blush appear on sun kissed cheeks. She now invited the blonde into her home, into her life, into her family’s life. Her parents welcomed the other witch wholeheartedly. How could they not? With Raelle’s mother gone, her pension dwindled to nothing by a military that deemed her a delinquent for who she married, and her father doing his best to provide enough money to put food in his kid’s belly and keep a roof over their heads, the Ramshorns had taken in the rascal not afraid to get in a fight. Decided to be brave in the face of danger, because word spreading about the new family that talked to the witch, the family who let their daughter date a witch, was a risk. A risk they were willing to take. So, they artfully plied the stubborn isolated girl with household chores and filling meals. Raelle never even knew she was being lured in and cared for until it was too late and she was a staple at their house. 

_“No sir, you gotta get that out of there.”_

_Scylla watched as her dad turned away from the leaning fence to glance at Raelle. The blonde stood next to him, eyeing a few of the posts._

_“We can push it back in place and, perhaps, use another post or two to reinforce it.” her father mused, gesturing at the fence before pushing his glasses back up his nose._

_Raelle stepped forward and poked at one of the leaning posts, “Won’t work. Got a rotten post. More than one. Thing’ll fall before spring and look a mess. Mrs. Green won’t like that, and Mrs. Smith’ll be over here quicker than a fella leaving after a shift change or the company men showing up when the union makes a fuss.” She shrugged, “Can help ya fix it. Made a few bucks last summer when the Gregson’s fence was full of termites. Their boy went off to play football, and their daughter is more about the dances a few towns over. Figured out how to replace ‘em. Just need to get a few pieces of wood down from the lumber yard. Mr. Smith can help with that.”_

_“Well, it sounds like we should go talk with Mr. Smith.”_

_Scylla felt the air shift around her, and her mother’s voice called over her shoulder, “If you are going to do all that, you might as well stay for dinner, Raelle.”_

_Raelle’s mouth opened and closed as she rubbed her hands together, “Oh, well…”_

_“Good. We’re having chicken pot pie. Mrs. Johnson gave me her recipe, and she insists I let her know how it turns out. I trust your judgment much more than my husband’s.” She nudged Scylla’s back, “We are short on butter, though. Perhaps you and Scylla could go fetch some from the store.”_

_Raelle’s eyes floated over to Scylla’s, and, maybe it was the sun peeking out from behind the clouds, but her face seemed to glow, “Yes, ma’am.”_

_The mother nodded, “And, I want to hear about how that exam of yours went. Algebra, wasn’t it?”_

_“Oh, um,” Raelle swayed forward as a hand clapped her back and Scylla’s father made his way toward the back door._

_“Come on, then.” Scylla’s mother waved her hand, “Wash up. I’ll give you and Scylla some money for the store. Feel free to take your time but be back in time for this pot pie.”_

_Scylla’s eyes drifted to her father’s who shot her a wink, “Watch out for spaceships. Radio said the Russians are after us.”_

_Scylla’s mother rolled her eyes at the man, “All you better be watching out for are those Algebra grades.”_

_The backdoor opened and closed with a squeak, leaving the two teenagers alone._

_Scylla smirked at the blonde and held out her hand, “You coming?”_

_Raelle jogged up to her, head ducked, “Guess so.”_

_Their hands tangled together._

Where Scylla once shied away from other people, from civilians who would turn her family in without warning, who saw witches as nothing more than chained servants meant to serve them through the oath, Scylla now walked the woods hand in hand with Raelle. Sat with her at lunch during school. Met Edwin and could still feel the warmth of his hug and the protectiveness of his hand on her shoulder.

_A light snow fell across the land, sticking to the glass of the frosted window, a tinge of fog forming as the room grew toasty from the oven, the smell of a roasting chicken permeating the entire home. Scylla curled up in the chair, book nestled in her lap, eyes scanning the printed words. Words that she was not supposed to know. The mother tongue flowed through her mind like a river, smooth and strong, rippling with undisguised power and promise, leading to a world she had to pretend wasn’t her own. A world that she could delve into only when she was safely within these four walls or far out in the dredges of the nearby empty lands, hidden amongst the looming steam soaked skies the color of ash that fell from the cigarettes hanging from many a miner’s mouth. A firm knock on the door interrupted her reading, and she lifted her head, blinking at the unexpected noise. Her mouth twisted into a slight frown, corners dipping and chin creeping out from where it had been tucked up in the collar of her sweater. She could hear her mother and father moving around in the other rooms, the vacuum and duster making their distinct sounds. It was a day to clean and cozy up in the warmth, far away from the cold snap descending upon the surrounding counties._

_The knock sounded again, this time a bit quicker, a bit more nervous. Biting her lip, the brunette set her book down, saving her page, and stood up. Her sock clad feet shuffled toward the front door._

_She hoped it wasn’t Mrs. Smith._

_That woman was the snoopiest snoop she ever met._

_She would be worried about her finding out her family was witches if it wasn’t so obvious the woman wasn’t necessarily after a penny from the government for turning in dodgers._

_She was much more interested in finding out what sort of wallpaper they used and how it compared to Mrs. Green’s or if her parents were bickering._

_Or if there was young love in the air._

_Shaking her head, Scylla carefully opened the door._

_There, standing on the threshold, one hand jammed in the pocket of her unbuttoned coat, the other holding a thin wilting daffodil, the bright yellow a sharp contrast to the muted opaque steely sky behind her, the world more a black and white picture than real life, was Raelle Collar. Scylla quickly looked her over, a small smile tugging at the frown._

_The other girl was cleaned up as best she could be. Hair still wet and slick. What Scylla knew was her best shirt, meant only for special occasions, tucked in and not a speck of dust or dirt on her face or hands. Fully scrubbed from head to toe and sporting a tender grin that reached her eyes._

_“Hi.” Raelle spoke up, thumb unconsciously fiddling with the stem of the flower._

_“Hi.” Scylla leaned against the doorframe._

_“Oh,” Raelle thrust out the flower, “for you.”_

_Scylla gingerly took it, bringing the blossomed bud to her nose._

_Raelle shoved her hand in her pocket and rocked on her heels, “Your folks home?”_

_Scylla nodded, “Yes. Do you want to come in?”_

_Raelle wet her lips, “Was wonderin’ if you might want to come outside. Just for a little while.”_

_Scylla tilted her head, “And, why would I do that?”_

_“First snow of the season. Nothin’ else like it.”_

_“You’re going to take me to see snow?”_

_A shrug, “You showed me something beautiful. Let me show you somethin’.”_

Now, she found herself ignoring her books to kiss the gentle smile off Raelle’s mouth. Talked about herself more than she ever had with anyone outside her parents. Told Raelle things she never told another living soul. Nestled in her arms and whispered about hopes and dreams and life and death.

Was vulnerable and yet had never felt more safe. 

She trusted Raelle.

She loved her.

Coal Town meant Raelle and Raelle meant Coal Town. 

Raelle made her feel things she’d never felt before. Would never feel with anyone else.

_Scylla rolled onto her side, the faint rumbling of footsteps padding around the other side of the house barely registering as she came face to face with a slumbering Raelle. The other girl’s face was placid, peaceful. So much unlike when she was awake. Scylla let her gaze travel the length of her nose, wash over delicate lashes, and pave a path along the thin white scar cutting across her jaw. She couldn’t stop her finger from reaching out and lightly tracing the slope of her cheek._

_Raelle’s eyes fluttered open lazily. She nuzzled into the pillow beneath her head and slung an arm low around Scylla’s hips. She huddled closer under the blankets, breathing out long and slow, “Morn’.”_

_“Good morning.” Scylla whispered._

_Blindly, Raelle searched for her lips, placing a warm kiss there when Scylla nestled closer._

_“What’re ya thinkin’ about.” Raelle mumbled._

_“You. Us.” Scylla answered honestly. In the quiet of the morning, the sun barely risen, the cocoon of blankets and pillows providing a hideout from the rest of the world, a space where it was only them and nothing else existed, Scylla felt the truths curl up in her soul and tease the tip of her tongue._

_Raelle hummed, “What about us?”_

_“How I want to do so many things with you. How much I care about you.”_

_Raelle burrowed her nose into the dip of her collarbone, hips slotting against Scylla’s, “Want to do everything with you.” She pressed a tiny kiss, “I want to do everything because of you.”_

_Scylla kissed the top of her head, “I want to go to the beach with you.”_

_“Yeah?”_

_“Yeah. Explore a lighthouse. Watch as the lantern shines so far it has to reach the ends of the earth.”_

_“Can we swim in the ocean?”_

_“Yeah, we can swim in the ocean.” she fondly rubbed her back._

_“Sounds swell.”_

_Scylla swallowed, burying her face in Raelle’s hair and inhaling deeply. The scent of coal clung to her no matter how much she cleaned herself up._

_Scylla would always think of Raelle when she smelled it._

_“I once went to this beach. Labor-in-Pain. It was the safest place I’ve ever been.” she confessed._

_Raelle pressed her fingers into the small of her back, “Sounds magnificent.”_

_“Yeah.”_

_Slowly, Raelle lifted her chin, mouth brushing against the base of her throat and skimming up to peck her cheek, “What are we waiting for?”_

_“We’ll run away?”_

_“Take the bus and not stop till we hit water.” Raelle nosed along her jaw._

_Scylla tilted her head, catching her lips in a sweet kiss, “We can.”_

_“What?”_

_“Go.”_

_Raelle pulled back slightly, blinking, eyes searching, asking, saying, thinking._

_Scylla leaned forward and kissed her again. “I’ll take you to the safest place I’ve ever known.”_

The Ramshorns had stayed and gotten used to living in the small town with the whistles and trucks and dirt smudged faces.

With the haphazard rambunctious kid with an air of melancholy and dread around her and her disheveled civilian father. 

Scylla might be used to this town, but she also knew better than to think this was where she was meant to be. Meant to stay.

Dodgers left.

Her family needed to leave.

For the first time, Scylla wanted to take someone with her. Grab Raelle’s hand and make the flicker of darkness leave her gaze. The foreboding sense of reality fade away. Take her to the beach, to the one place Scylla remembers being the most safe. They could sit in the sand and watch the boats float by, making up stories about all the fantastical places the ships would sail to. Trade kisses and make plans. Scylla didn’t want to run. Not from Raelle. She wanted to take her with her. Show her the world. Make her smile. Laugh. Steal her away from this dying town with the dying mine and its dying people. Take her away from conscription and uniforms and medals. Flag draped coffins next to coal laced caskets.

Raelle wasn’t meant for this. 

Scylla could take her someplace safe. Someplace they could be free. Be just them. Just Raelle and Scylla. Two women in love. 

Two witches in love.

Maybe it wasn’t the town she was attached to. 

Because, everything about Coal Town made her think of Raelle.

Every corner of the town was a memory, a phantom image of two teenagers spending time together, getting to know each other, falling in love.

She was in love with Raelle.

She...she had a reason to live and not just survive. 

In this town, surrounded by death and decay, she’d found life.

A future.

Her future.

The squeak of the back door broke Scylla from her thoughts, and she glanced up from where she had been staring blankly at the Chemistry book open in front of her, splayed out across the kitchen table with her notes and pencils. Her mouth dipped into a concerned frown as her mother’s slightly stricken face came into view.

“Mom?” Scylla searched her face. What was it? Had they been caught? Was it her dad?

Her mom wet her lips, “I just spoke with Mrs. Green.”

The fence phone line was lit up and ticking.

Scylla’s eyebrows knit together. What had Mrs. Green said? Had someone been hurt at the mine? Another accident? 

“Scylla,” her mother took a step toward her, eyes locked on hers, “when was the last time you spoke with Raelle?”

Scylla swallowed thickly against the fear sparking like a match in her soul. She hadn't seen Raelle all day, but that wasn’t necessarily cause for alarm. Raelle was known to wander off sometimes, but she always came back, sheepish and eager. Thinking back, the flame grew. She hadn’t seen much of Raelle for the past few days, only a few glances and short clipped conversations. It had worried her, but she put it off, wanting to give Raelle a chance to get her thoughts in order before bombarding her with questions.

“Why?” Scylla asked.

“I think you need to find her.”

* * *

Scylla marched down the path, boots sinking into the soft snow dusted mud, an odd squelching sound breaking through the thick silence of the wintery day. It was cold, her breaths turning into tiny withering cloud like puffs each time they left her pale lips, the cold dense as its invisible hand slammed down and held on tight, tried to squeeze around her ribs and sneak into her heart.

She ignored it.

The cold barely touched her, ears not feeling the bite that turned them red or face flinching at the ice seeping in through her thick coat, past her sweater and into her bones.

She didn’t feel anything but the pain and teeth clenching fury wading through her veins, lava flowing down from the erupting volcano, hot and steady and ready to spill over into the waning bitter afternoon sunlight, the celestial star barely a yellow tinged steak through the bleak greyish mountainside.

She could hardly keep her hands from shaking at her sides, hardly keep control, the ability to remain calm and collected that she always treasured as a strength threatening to leave her on the wings of the frigid oil and smoke infused air.

She was so angry.

Angry and sad and scared.

Spotting a lone figure sitting off in the distance, she sped up her feet.

The words flew out of her mouth before she was even at the other girl’s side.

“You quit.”

News spread fast.

Raelle Collar, the witch, had dropped out of school. Would no longer be attending. Met with the principal and was not going to be seen around the building anymore.

She wasn’t going to graduate.

Raelle didn’t look at her, shoulders hunched and the collar of her jacket flipped up in a meager attempt to protect herself from the chill...or hide herself from the world. A cracked calloused hand fiddled with a thin bitter stick and poked at the clumps of messy dirty snow, the once pristine white already stained black from the coal that seemed to be everywhere, thin veins weaving through like the ore slithered through the rocks in the mine, waiting to be chipped away and hauled out into the sunlight, to be trucked far away to where it would be formed into something new by the hands of others. Mud caked the sides of her palms and delved beneath her short nails. Her coat was weathered and beaten, tiny holes needing to be repatched near the elbows. Golden wheat colored hair that once shone brightly in the dreary grey was now limp and frail. Brittle.

She looked brittle.

Not a word left the younger girl’s lips. Not a sound beyond the subtly strained wheeze that trickled along each rise and fall of her lungs, frigid air working to seize and squeeze her insides left unprotected from the way her unbuttoned coat hung tiredly across her small shrunken frame.

Scylla pressed her lips together, eyes hard, voice trembling more than she wanted it to, “You said you were going to graduate.”

Raelle’s mama and pop had both wanted her to graduate high school. 

Raelle told her more than once about it.

About how her pop worked hard, picking up as many shifts as possible, but always asked how her schooling was coming along. About her mama telling her to be good and learn. That she was strong and smart and to never forget that. 

That Raelle had struggled, but she would do anything for her parents. Her family. Wanted to make her mama proud, even if she couldn’t see her face or read her words anymore.

She had been doing so well, too. Scylla knew Raelle still skipped class more than she should, could sometimes get lost in thoughts not tuned toward the textbooks, but she was trying. Scylla would curl up next to her as they both did homework in her room. Her mom and dad sometimes looked over Raelle’s shoulder at the kitchen table and softly pointed out where Raelle was forgetting a number.

Raelle was going to graduate.

She was going to pass and…

And Scylla was going to ask her to be with her.

They had to leave soon.

Dodgers could never stay in one place too long, and they’d already stayed there longer than most. But, rumours always swirled, and it was better to stay ahead of them than be caught up one night in a raid that left everyone broken and tarnished.

“Raelle,” Scylla stared at the back of her head. At the once shiny golden hair that was shambles and ragged, much like the rest of the tiny girl’s body. Raelle could seem so big and so small.

Strong and foolhardy, delicate and demure.

Bold and shy. Willing to lead and follow.

She was a puzzle Scylla wanted to spend her life putting together and figuring out.

And, right now, she wanted to figure out what crazy idea was going through her girlfriend’s mind.

“What are you doing, Raelle?”

The other witch finally lifted her shoulder up and let it drop in an apathetic shrug, “Army’s willin’ to let me enlist early. Start making some money.” She wet her cracked lips, “Mine’s willing to put me on shift. Pay more, too.”

Scylla’s heart stopped.

The army?

The mine?

“What are you talking about?” Her hands dug into her pockets, fingers clinging to the patch of wool stitched inside, “The army? The mine?”

Raelle’s voice was no more than a mumble. Strained. Tired. Raspy with disuse and no sleep, “Gotta decide by the end of the week.”

Scylla blinked at this. Her eyes searched for an answer, for some semblance of an explanation as to what was happening. “Look at me.”

Raelle didn’t even flinch.

“Raelle Collar, you look at me.” 

With a resigned sigh, Raelle slowly stood up and turned around.

Scylla nearly gasped at the red lining her dull washed out eyes and the way her mouth had turned into a thin line, the once charming grin long gone, replaced with a darkness blacker and more rigidly unfeeling than the entire length of the tunnels dug beneath their feet.

Raelle stared at her, the tiniest flicker of an eyelash indicating that she wasn’t as hollow and empty as she appeared.

Scylla closed the distance between them, grasping Raelle’s collar and smoothing it down before cupping the side of her neck, “Raelle,”

Raelle’s eyes glistened, the lump in her throat causing her words to splinter, “Pop’s sick.”

Scylla froze.

Sniffing, Raelle wiped at her nose, smudging mud and coal across her face, “Doc said something ‘bout his lungs. Got...got somethin’ the size of a nickel. ‘Bout to be a quarter. Even bigger after that.”

All the air left Scylla.

No.

Not Edwin.

He was good. Nice. He worked hard but loved his daughter. Loved her more than anything. When he met Scylla, he smiled so wide that Scylla knew where Raelle got her roguish swagger and charm from.

“I’m so sorry.” Scylla finally got out. “Raelle,”

Why hadn’t Raelle told her? How long had she known? She never said anything. Even the fence phone line had been silent on this.

Raelle shrugged out of her hold, stepping back, “He’d been coughin’ a mess. Finally went an’...he was coughin’ up blood.” Her voice stuck in her throat, and she cleared it roughly, “I can’t fix him. I...I can’t fix him.”

Scylla blinked back against the sting in her own eyes, “We can figure this out.”

That’s what Raelle had told her once. When Scylla had trouble opening up fully. 

Raelle was with her, and they would figure it out.

Together.

Raelle shook her head, “Nothin’ to figure out.”

“Yes, there is.” She snagged the flap of Raelle’s coat and dragged her in, not letting her go, “You don’t want to do this, Raelle. We both know you don’t want to join the army or...or work in that damn mine.”

A wobbly grief stricken half grin, “Told ya ain’t no way out, beautiful.”

“No,” Scylla refused to believe that, “there’s a way. There is always a way.” She curled her hand around Raelle’s cheek, forcing their eyes to meet, “Come with us.”

Raelle frowned.

Scylla took a deep breath, silently urging Raelle to listen, “My family is leaving soon. Come with us.” The words hummed in the air, “There’s a group of people who can help you. You don’t have to take the oath, and you do not have to go down into that pit you hate.”

Raelle’s voice was low, “Dodge. You’re talking about dodgers.”

Scylla nodded slowly, “Yes.”

“Scyl,”

“Come with us. Come with me.” Scylla rubbed the pad of her thumb along the glacial plain of her cheek, “Raelle, you...you’ll die if you stay here. Whether it’s the army or the mine, you’ll die.”

The army was only slavery by another name, and everyone knew how dangerous the mine was.

How Edwin wasn’t the only one to end up sick.

That there were accidents all the time.

That they wouldn’t do anything special to help Raelle, and they were only keeping her around in case one of the others needed a quick fix in between digging through the rock and dust.

They needed Raelle because the mine was dying, though no one would admit it, and no one else but the kids already there would stick around to work it.

They would use Raelle up and toss her aside. Mine and Army alike. They didn’t care about Raelle. Didn’t give a damn that she was funny or warm or selfless. Didn’t care that she was broken and bruised but still stronger than the tallest tree. They only wanted a body to shove into place until it withered and wilted and lost every ounce of life it once held.

Mine or the army, Raelle’s life would be sucked out of her, every last drop, until she was gone.

Raelle wrapped her hands around Scylla’s wrist, guiding her away, “I can’t do that.”

“Yes, you can. You have a choice.” She flipped her wrist, tangling her hands with Raelle’s, “Choose me. Choose us.”

Raelle glanced away, chin and jaw quivering, “I can’t leave my pop.”

Scylla breathed out heavily.

“If...he needs help. I run and...and the army will go after him or...or the mine...he’s workin’, Scyl, but he ain’t right. He’s not well, and...I can’t leave him. He ain’t got nobody else. If the army...”

“We’ll take him with us.”

It would be harder. So much harder.

Her parents would understand.

They’d have to.

“No, Scylla.” 

Something hot and fiery and burning scorched within Scylla, searing her tongue and setting her belly ablaze. “So, you just give up?” She pushed into Raelle, forcing the blonde to meet her gaze, “I’m not letting you do this. You are not going to get yourself killed.”

Raelle opened her mouth to speak, eyes sad, broken, but Scylla didn’t let her.

Grabbing the back of Raelle’s head, she smashed their lips together, eyes slamming shut as their teeth clicked and noses bumped.

She didn’t care.

She kissed Raelle hard and deep. Consumed her and let herself be consumed. Whimpered when Raelle kissed her back, a tentative tongue connecting with her own. Hands clutched at her sides. Her leg slipped between Raelle’s, and she did everything to suck the grief and the detachment out of her girl. Did everything to replace it with the anger and need and terror infused hope that lingered inside herself.

They broke apart with a gasp, foreheads coming together.

“I love you.” Scylla confessed, the words painting the tear streaked face, “Please.”

Raelle gulped, squeezing her eyes shut tight.

“Please, Raelle.” Scylla massaged the back of her neck, “Come with us.”

Off in the distance, the sound of the bell roaring to life, calling for a shift change, echoed in the trees and caught in the craggly crevices of the hills.

Raelle kissed her cheek gently. Tenderly. Scylla held her breath as lips brushed against her ear.

“No matter what happens, I love you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, there we have it!
> 
> Good? Bad? Oh gosh, why did this writer continue this story and ruin it completely? Let me know! You know how this works. 1 Cookie, 2 Cookies, 3 Cookies and a virtual hug. Read, Kudos, Comment.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The vehicle slowed to a stop.
> 
> Scylla reached for the door handle, but paused as her mother spoke, “We have to leave before sunset.”
> 
> They couldn’t wait for Raelle to take her time to think it over. For her to say long goodbyes or attempt to do anything but return to the waiting car with Scylla and drive off.
> 
> Most likely never to come back. 
> 
> The air grew still for a moment, the only sound the windshield wipers battling the rain that was slowly falling harder, hail on the horizon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I said it was over. Yes, I added one more chapter. Sorry not sorry. 
> 
> Enjoy!!!!

Raelle sat at the kitchen table, the muted fluorescent light of the bulb overhead doing little to illuminate the room beyond the murky greyness of the late afternoon, where clouds crept in on blustery winds and frost sliced through thin walls and even thinner skin. She could feel the rain not far off. A look out the window would reveal an earth naked of color, any hint of greens or blues scattered away to be replaced by browns and blacks and an offsetting white. The sky rumbled with the echoes of trains and trucks, the air crisp yet carrying dust and debris through the forming storm. Nothing to do but wait for the clouds to break open and wash away everything below with wicked relentless raindrops. Cause windows to be closed and the fence phone line to go silent as Mrs. Smith huddled inside her living room in her robe and slippers, hair most likely up in curlers and the old television set playing one of the only channels broadcasting that far. 

The witch idly flipped through the handful of black and white photos normally kept safely in the old beat up hat box hidden in the back of the closet in her parent’s bedroom. There were only a few, some yellowed at the corners by age and fingers holding on for hours on end as eyes peered down, a small splotch or two caused by a falling tear that wasn’t wiped away quick enough by a shaky hand before it slipped down a pale cheek and pooled across the face of a young Willa Collar standing next to her husband, a tiny baby cradled between them.

Sniffling, the blonde blinked and shuffled to another picture, the silver of the mountainous air striking a pose around the small family within the frame, a tiny toddler, rambunctious and sprightly, crawled in her mother’s lap, hands curious about the medal nestled against the older woman’s chest as her pop’s shiny helmet rested crookedly over her eyes.

Her bottom lip quivered at the face that only lived on in these old photographs and fading memories. She snagged the soft flesh with her teeth, inhaling sharply through her nose as the backs of her eyes burned and her belly coiled tightly. She swallowed against the lump in her throat and mentally cursed herself for letting her emotions bubble up like this. It would do no good to let them out. No good at all.

Her grip on the photos tightened, thumb digging in, and she willed herself to stop, for her taut frame, muscles strewn with anxiety and grief, pulled to the very last inch, ready to snap, to relax, her elbows cratering into the wooden surface of the table.

She missed her mama.

She missed how happy her pop was when she was home.

She missed being able to hear her voice and excitedly wait for another letter when she was away.

She missed being scolded for wandering off and skipping class, for getting into trouble.

She couldn’t heal her mama. 

She couldn’t heal her pop.

All this Work thrumming inside of her, all this supposed power, and she couldn’t heal her shattered family.

Not unless she stuck to her plan. 

Even then, it was based on a hope she seldom let herself have.

Folks in Coal Town didn’t have hope. They had hardhats and handkerchiefs. Coal and the Company.

Witches had even less.

They had the Accord.

Powers that meant nothing more than promises and pensions for when they returned home as nothing more than a flag and a forgotten medal.

The sounds of heavy footsteps, boots that had seen the darkest of days and the blackest depths of the earth, rumbled to the doorframe leading into the small room.

“Rae,” Edwin rested his shoulder against the wall.

Raelle hastily bunched the photos into a semblance of a pile and scratched at her cheeks with the back of her hand, “Hey, Pop.”

Edwin let out a strangled sigh, the exhalation transforming into a bitter wet cough. A harsh hacking that had him bending over, fist raised to his mouth, dots of red seeping into the creases.

Raelle bit her lip harder. Short blunt nails dug into the meat of her palm, leaving tiny half moon indentations and a morsel of blood in their wake.

Giving one last painful cough, Edwin cleared his throat, “Your mama weren’t too keen on having her picture taken.”

“She was never around to get it.”

She was always gone, at Fort Salem or wherever they sent her.

Until they sent her home in a box.

Edwin shook his head, “Naw...she didn’t want her picture because she wanted them all to be of you.”

Raelle’s brow wrinkled.

Of her?

“Wanted to take ya with her wherever she went.” Edwin explained. “Could keep a photo of ya no matter what she was doin’ or where she was at.” He tapped his own overall covered chest, “Keep mine right here when I go ta work. Keep what’s important close.”

Raelle clenched her jaw as the sting in her eyes grew along with the burning in her chest.

Edwin pushed off from the wall and took a step into the room, hands hanging limply at his sides, “Ya quit school.”

Raelle shrugged, “Ain’t much use anyways.”

“Your mama wanted ya to finish.”

“Mama’s not here.” Raelle itched to cross her arms, to stand up, to fold in on herself, to walk away, “Gotta grow up sometime.”

Accept the only life she was ever going to have.

Edwin slowly moved to the only other chair in the room. He heavily lowered himself into the seat with a grimace, “I know things might seem tough right now, but it ain’t always gonna be this way.”

Raelle barely bit back a snort. It had always been this way. Ever since she could remember. It was always going to be this way.

“Rae,” Edwin leaned forward, hands clasped on the table, “You never wanted to be like us. Me or your mama. Not when it came ta our jobs.”

She never wanted to join the army or the mine.

It didn’t matter what she wanted. It never did.

Her life had been laid out for her since the moment she was born. Just like every other witch or kid in Coal Town.

She was special enough to have two choices. That was it, and even that was shaky. 

If the army truly wanted her, no one could stop it. If anyone even did.

“You got your stubbornness from your mama, but I like ta think ya got your heart from me. Your mama was a good woman, but she wasn’t the kind ta fall in love easily. Wear her heart on her sleeve. She kept it locked up safe inside. Only showed it ta a few folks.”

Raelle rubbed her hands together, thumb pushing into the center of her palm as her father spoke. His once strong voice still held the soothing cadence that lulled her to sleep as a small child, the raspy weathered strain only reminding her of what she had lost, what she was losing, what she was willing to sacrifice to keep around.

“You don’t want to work in that mine, Raelle. You’ve never liked it. And, we both know you’ve hated the army for a while now. Long before your mama was sent back ta us.”

Ever since she figured out who kept her mama away from her and her pop for so long.

Raelle looked at her hands, “You're sick, Pop.”

“That don’ mean you up and quit.”

“I’m not quitting!” Raelle exhaled roughly. Her light blue eyes turned fuzzy with tears, “I ain’t got no choice. Never have. And you...we ain’t got the money.”

Edwin lowered his head.

“Maybe...maybe if mama’s pension wasn’t so small...but…” Raelle’s hand turned into a fist as she fought back the bubbling scorching swirl of pain that stabbed at her soul, “It was always gonna be the army or the mine. Jus’ gettin’ there a bit faster, is all.”

“I never wanted ya to do this.”

Raelle could only lift her shoulders and let them fall.

No way out.

Edwin chewed on his words, taking in the raggedy defeated look in his child’s eyes, “I might be sick, but I am still your father. It’s not your place ta take care of me. Never was. I might not have been the best, but I always wanted good for you. Only good.”

“Pop,”

“I can get by workin’ a bit longer. We got some savings. Union can help a little. Ain’t no reason I can’t figure it out. Us Collars always land on our feet. Rub a little coal dust in it and get on by.”

“Won’t be enough.” Raelle shook her head balefully. “Ya heard the doc. Medicine and...and surgery…”

She refused to even think about how her working wouldn’t be enough to pay all the bills. No matter if it was the mine or the military. The only chance might be a generous pension.

Edwin reached out, his larger hand falling on top of her fist, engulfing it, “You listen here, Raelle Collar. Your ol’ man is gonna be jus’ fine. Only thing that’ll hurt me is if my daughter gives up everythin’ because she thinks she knows better than me.”

Raelle's lips and chin quivered, her lashes flickering, “I’m not gonna leave you. Not like that.”

Her mama died alone. Left behind. 

She wasn’t going to let her pop die alone, left behind.

“Who said you’d be leavin?” He pointed at his chest, at the pocket in the stained denim, “Keep ya right here with me.” With his free hand, he fished out from the pile the photo of two proud parents showing their baby daughter to the world, the tiny infant held between them. He carefully folded it and leaned forward to tuck it in the pocket of her thick flannel shirt, right next to her heart, “And, your mama and I will always be right there with you.”

“Pop,” her voice broke. The feel of the bent picture was heavy against her chest. As heavy as the weight in her belly and the invisible hands pressing down on her shoulders, her eyes wet and mouth dry. 

Edwin held on to her hand, “That girl of yours. Her family are good people. They can help you. Get you far away from all this.” 

Raelle’s eyes closed, and her breaths stuttered with a sob.

“You kids are happy. I ain’t seen you this happy since I can remember. They’ll know more people like themselves.” Dodgers. Witches who didn’t serve. Who lived outside of the Accord. Outside of conscription. “You can be happy, Rae. Don’ give up on all that for me. I lost your mama. I don’ want ta lose you, too.”

_Raelle balanced precariously on the steel beam of the railroad track, long since abandoned, the rusty metal dug up and overturned. Her arms stuck out as she walked, one foot in front of the other, her body weaving as she skipped along._

_“You’re going to hurt yourself.” Scylla tutted from her side._

_“Nah,” Raelle grinned roguishly. She balanced on her toes, spinning around and walking backwards, “been walkin’ these since I can remember. Could take this act on the road.”_

_“Join the circus? The carnival?” Scylla’s eyes sparkled in the cool sunshine, and for a moment, Raelle forgot where she was, lost in deep blue, a color she ain’t never seen anywhere else, not in all the flowers or dresses or pails of paint that dotted Coal Town._

_Stumbling, Raelle caught herself and hopped down, “Yes, ma’am. Best act this side of the county line. Right before the dancing mice and those folks that swing around.”_

_“Trapeze artists?”_

_She nodded, “Ya come watch my show, I’ll get ya a good seat. Bag of popcorn an’ everything.”_

_“What happens after the show?” Scylla’s voice dipped. She curled her fingers into the front of Raelle’s coat, their breaths visible between them._

_Raelle’s eyes darted down to her pink lips before rising back to meet her gaze. Wordlessly, she wet her own lips before carefully cradling the brunette’s jaw in her hand. She ducked forward and kissed her, lips pressing firmly, stealing the breath from both of them._

_Scylla kissed her back, mouth sucking tenderly on her bottom lip._

_Breaking apart, foreheads coming together, nothing but the chill of the day between them, Raelle kept her eyes closed, basking in the feel of the other girl so close. Her voice was no more than a whispered confession, thoughts drifting out, “I love you.” She gingerly twirled a lock of hair behind Scylla’s ear before kissing her again. “I want to do everything because of you.”_

_Scylla’s hands tightened, “Forget the circus. We can go to the beach, remember? Drive all around the country.”_

_Realle’s thumb smoothed along her cheekbone, “Sounds swell.”_

_Scylla blindly took Raelle’s hand and brought it to her mouth, brushing a kiss to the back of her knuckles before holding it between hers, guiding it open and tracing the outline of her fingers, “I love you.”_

_“I’d hope so, with all them books I been readin’ because of ya. I don’ go to class for jus’ anybody.” Her throat tightened, “Don’ think about or kiss or touch anyone like I do you.”_

_Scylla pressed their palms together, their fingers aligning before lacing, “How do you think of me?”_

_“Like I want to kiss you.”_

_“Why don’t you?”_

_The smirk was met with a tempted mouth._

Raelle battled to get her words to remain steady, “They won’t leave you alone if I left.”

The army would hunt her down. Dodging was illegal, and they wouldn’t hesitate to pounce on a brittle old man to weed out a running witch. 

The mine wanted what they wanted, and they always tended to get it. No matter what the Union said or did. The company owned the town and everyone in it.

“Think I can take a witch or two...and the Company? You leave that ta me. Union won’t let them bother nobody.”

His bravado was just that.

They both knew he couldn’t take on either alone, and the Union wouldn’t care about a witch, especially one who wasn’t _theirs_.

Raelle opened her glittering eyes, “I’ve never been anywhere else but here.”

“‘Bout time ya left and saw what’s out there.”

Before either could speak, Edwin was doubled over, painfilled deafening coughs pounding him down toward the floor.

Raelle’s hand automatically opened, fingers reaching for him, but she stopped short.

The drive to help him, fix him, creaked in her veins and tore at her bones.

She couldn’t fix him.

Not like that.

But, this was her Pop. Her family. The only family she had left. The man who raised her. Held her hand as they walked to her first day of school. Who told her bedtime stories and made sure there was a cake for her birthday, lopsided but covered with enough frosting to go on for days.

As the coughing continued, Raelle dove out of her chair and rushed around the table to his side. She pressed her hand to his back, the other going to his shoulder, helping hold him up.

Her plan played out in her mind. Cold and hard.

How she could help her Pop.

Bring in money. Get a pension where, if anything happened, there’d be enough to help him, pay his bills, keep the house.

She had a plan.

She couldn’t lose sight of that.

She didn’t have much of a choice either way.

No way out.

Except...maybe...the only way out...was in.

* * *

The misty morning mountain haze obscured the nearby hills and mountains, a light drizzle turning to an icy bitterly chilled rain that felt more like sharp knives than falling water as it descended from the sky. The droplets collided with the snow gathered across the land, the once fluffy now hardened substance black and muddy the closer you were to the mine, feet and trucks and mother nature itself staining and forever darkening the originally pristine and innocent wintery wonderland with soot, the coal dust thick and heavy, blacker than midnight or the deepest parts of the tunnels hundreds of feet below. 

As the roads and paths meandered away from Coal Town and the pits where workers in dented hardhats and grimy overalls toiled away, the snow turned lighter. Softer. The dirt and dust drifted away, letting nature blanket the railroad tracks and treetops with glistening glimmering puffs of white that seemed like stars in the steel grey sky. The sounds of gossip and whistles were replaced with the gentle quiet hum of the land. Farther and farther the roads went, and quieter and quieter the world seemed to be. The stress and neurosis of people filtered through the branches and brush to be transformed into peaceful tranquility.

Yet, hovering just out of sight, hidden in the wet fog that refused to burn away as the sun stayed behind streaky silent clouds, loomed a sense of foreboding. Of time ticking away. 

Of fear. Regret. Loss.

Heartbreak.

_Scylla pursed her lips, caught between wanting to go find the people who did this and wanting to comfort her girlfriend. Swallowing down the sparking anger tickling the back of her throat and coiling around her lungs, she gently touched the pad of her finger to the mottled bruise forming along the proud jaw, now clenched so tight it was a wonder it didn’t shatter._

_Raelle’s eyes diverted at the feel of Scylla carefully examining the injury, darting to the floor as she struggled to keep her breathing controlled._

_“Who did this?” Scylla trailed her fingers down to Raelle’s chin, cupping it between her thumb and forefinger to guide her head to an angle, allowing her gaze to sweep more fully along the forming purples and reds._

_Raelle shrugged._

_It must have been the same group of civilian boys who tended to taunt the witch when they were feeling bored or needed a jolt of confidence. Easier to go after the outcast than face the fact they were months away from pulling on overalls and being marched down into the mine like a horde of ants._

_Scylla wanted to find them and make them pay. Make them feel the hurt and fear they tried to shove into the other girl’s soul. That they unknowingly put into Scylla’s._

_She didn’t. She couldn’t. Not when it would draw attention to her and her family._

_Not yet._

_The blood congealing on Raelle’s knuckles let her know the girl had gotten in a few good hits herself._

_Pressing her hand to the side of Raelle’s neck, she softly caressed it before catching haunted blues. The seed came out low, just under her breath, and Raelle’s eyes fluttered for a moment as their hearts connected to beat in time together._

_The discoloration began to fade. Raelle’s normal sun kissed and coal soaked skin tone began to reveal itself once again._

_A hand clamped along Scylla’s wrist, “Not too much.”_

_Scylla paused._

_Raelle exhaled, “Don’ want no one askin’ how I got healed up so quick.”_

_Raelle wouldn’t have healed herself._

_And, there were not supposed to be any other witches in town._

_“Tell them you went a few towns over, if they ask.” Scylla refused to let Raelle walk around hurt. “Tell them you went to one of the witches over there.”_

_Raelle’s lips twitched, the bottom split open, only now starting to scab over, and she slid her hand along the back of the brunette’s, bringing it down to hang between them, her fingers curling around to touch the inside of Scylla’s palm, “Ya know your mom’ll be hearin’ ‘bout it faster than I could form a lie.”_

_The damn fence phone line._

_Damn Mrs. Smith and her ear for gossip._

_“You can’t keep letting them do this to you.” Scylla implored. They both knew Raelle couldn’t use Work. She’d be punished worse than anything those other kids could do to her._

_Didn’t mean Scylla wasn’t ready to toss them into the underworld._

_To strike them hard and fast._

_Fire and fury._

_“Not exactly standing there like a pig for the slaughter.” the cracked knuckles flexed. A few of the boys would be sporting shiners and one a broken tooth._

_Scylla let out a sigh and leaned forward to press her forehead against Raelle’s, “Try to stay away from them. I know they go after you, but try. Or stay with me. We can walk together. Wherever you need to go. Ok? Stay out of trouble. Graduate. And...we can go.”_

_“Finally swim in the ocean?”_

_Scylla sniffed, “Yeah, finally swim in the ocean.” She gingerly brushed her lips against Raelle’s._

Scylla stared straight ahead while the car bounced along the pothole infested road. She tucked herself deeper into her coat, huddled against the cold that seemed to dwell inside her body the longer they took to reach the Collar home. Her blue gaze slid over to see her mother at the steering wheel, face grim yet determined.

Her mind flashed back.

_Her mother let out a bereaved sigh, and her father leaned back in the kitchen chair, the outlined map on where they could go next forgotten in front of him._

_Scylla looked at both of them, finally resting her eyes on her mother, “Please.”_

_Her mother thought it over, eyes flashing as everything her daughter said tossed and turned and tumbled about in her mind._

_“Scylla,” her father began, and the young witch held in a flinch at his tone. Placating and sad. A tone that did not lead to anything good._

_“Mom,” Scylla cut her father off, “please. You both said she could come with us.”_

_Come with her._

_Stay with them._

_Be one of them._

_Her father continued, “That was before you told us she has been speaking with the army.”_

_Scylla blinked, “It…”_

_“She’s known.” Her mother piped up. She crossed her arms, “Raelle isn’t someone who can disappear easily. If she’s been talking about enlisting early, the army is aware of her. It will be noticed if she doesn’t take the oath, one way or another.” Her shoulders dropped a fraction, “If her father is sick, they will use him to get to her. That will lead them to us and anyone else helping us.”_

_“No,” Scylla shook her head, “no. She wouldn’t do that.”_

_“You don’t know that.”_

_“Yes, I do. I know Raelle. She’s not a snitch.” Not Raelle. Raelle was the most loyal person Scylla knew. “Neither is her father.”_

_The Collars would never tell on them. Never._

_Her parents shared a look._

_Scylla stepped forward, “Please. It’s Raelle.” She cleared her throat, emotions causing her words to thicken like marbles in her mouth and throat, “I love her.” Her brows furrowed, “If we leave her behind, she’ll...you know what they’ll do to her. They’ll kill her. The army. The mine. It doesn’t matter. We can do this. You know Raelle. She’s not some liability or risk.” She took a breath, “She’s my girlfriend. We can’t leave her behind. Everyone else in her life has left her behind. Left her alone. I’m not going to do that, too.” Her chest trembled, “Are you going to leave Raelle to die? Abandon her to people who don’t care about her? Can you do that?”_

_Leave behind the girl who had become a fixture in their home. Who held Scylla’s hand under the table as they ate supper. Who shyly thanked them when one of them offered her a bit of casual help on a math problem or shooed her in from the cold. Who once fixed her father’s hand when he cut it dicing up vegetables for soup. Who her mother first brought into their lives that day so long ago, shoving a bag of frozen peas against a beaten face._

_Her mother deflated, “You’re sure she’ll go? Even with Edwin…”_

_They couldn’t take Edwin. Someone seriously sick? It was too much of a risk, especially since it was a civilian. They liked Edwin. Considered him a friend._

_They couldn’t risk their entire family for him._

_Scylla straightened her spine, standing as tall as she could. The answer? No. “Let me talk to her one more time.”_

The small ramshackle home came into view, the lights of the car barely cutting through the dense fog to trickle against the chipped wood that was in need of a few coats of paint, the roof starting to sink in a little under the weight of the world.

The vehicle slowed to a stop.

Scylla reached for the door handle, but paused as her mother spoke, “We have to leave before sunset.”

They couldn’t wait for Raelle to take her time to think it over. For her to say long goodbyes or attempt to do anything but return to the waiting car with Scylla and drive off.

Most likely never to come back. 

The air grew still for a moment, the only sound the windshield wipers battling the rain that was slowly falling harder, hail on the horizon.

Scylla nodded and opened the door. She slid out, boots crunching on the cracked and creviced ground. The door shut quietly behind her, and she picked her way through the bramble that had swept up onto the road. Squinting through the nearly blinding haze, she skirted around where the Collar truck might be parked and up to the front door. 

A firm knock had her hands anxiously shivering at her sides.

She waited.

And waited.

She ignored the growing sense of dread in her soul.

Raelle was home. She had to be. There was nowhere else for her to go.

They were not missing their chance.

They were going to go away. Somewhere safe. 

Raelle would get to swim in the ocean.

They would be happy.

The creak of footsteps echoed through the barrier, and Scylla inhaled, filling her lungs with confidence and hope.

The door swung open to reveal a haggard and grisled Edwin. His eyes looked like they had sunken into his skull, his face marble white and whiskers bristled and sparse. More a skeleton than a living human. A dull pallor painted his frame, clothes hanging loosely and gaze dull. Lips chapped and nearly colorless, they dripped into a frown at the sight of the witch.

“Hello, Mr. Collar.” Scylla greeted politely, trying to tamp down her anxiety at how the one civilian who ever showed her true care looked like his death was closer than anyone had anticipated.

He looked like he was dead already.

Like he’d given up but hadn’t told anyone yet.

“Scylla.” He mumbled, body swaying to cover the entire space between the door and the frame, “It’s cold. Ya shouldn’ be out in this weather. Dangerous.” His voice was gravelly. Like he had swallowed bits of rock from the mine.

Like he was on the verge of tears.

“Of course.” Scylla wet her lips, “But, I was hoping I could see Raelle. Talk to her for a moment.”

His grip tightened on the door, “Raelle’s busy right now. Be best for ya ta go on back home.”

Scylla stared at him.

Something was wrong.

“Mr. Collar,”

“Go on, now.” He nodded, his voice rising, “Don’ need no more help with her schoolin’. Raelle’s movin’ on from all that. Thank you for helpin’ her, though.”

Scylla didn’t move. 

Her instincts told her to run. To leave. To listen to the man whose once friendly now saddened eyes were screaming at her to turn around and never come back. 

She couldn’t.

She needed to see Raelle.

One last time.

Her feet itched and her fingers shook, “Please. Ed. I need to see her.” She held his eyes, “I need to take a walk with her.”

Edwin’s face fell.

The sound of footsteps clicked behind the man, but Scylla didn’t smile or tear her gaze from his.

Her mind faintly noted the steps didn’t sound familiar.

“Is something the matter, here?” an unknown voice, strong and stern, called out.

Edwin swallowed roughly and turned his head, “No, Sgt. Quartermaine. Jus’ one of the kids that used ta help Raelle with her schoolin’ wonderin’ if she was gonna need anymore help.”

Scylla felt the frigid hand of fear grab her heart and squeeze.

Sergeant. 

No.

No.

No.

The door opened further, Edwin’s head lowering as another figure came into view.

She was tall. Poised. Powerful.

She was in a uniform.

A military uniform.

Scylla did her best not to recoil at the stripes on her shoulders or the calculated scrutiny in her face. Her dark skin and eyes revealed nothing, simply took Scylla in.

Scylla didn’t back down.

She would never back down.

“I see.” the soldier’s eyebrow lifted.

“I want to speak with Raelle.” Scylla pulled her shoulders back.

No one was going to stop her, least of all someone from the military.

A witch in chains.

The officer’s eyes narrowed before she stepped back, “By all means.”

Scylla ducked between the two of them, heedless of the warning bells in her mind, and rushed toward the small kitchen.

Raelle looked up from the coin in her battered hands, her entire being seeming to rise up and plummet in one breath at the sigh of the brunette. Her eyes darted to where the two older adults stood just out of earshot before coming back to Scylla, “Scyl,”

Scylla walked up to her, “Come on a walk with me.”

Raelle blinked, throat bobbing, lashes fluttering, “Scylla.”

“Please.” Scylla grasped her hands, internally stuttering at the feel of the medal against her skin, “Come with me.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.” Scylla pressed in closer, voice lowering to barely a whisper, “We can leave. Go to the beach. Please.” She squeezed gently, “Go for a walk with me.”

The car was right outside. Ready to go. To take them both away.

A short walk.

All it would take was a short walk.

Raelle ran the pad of her thumb along the side of Scylla’s palm, her voice as soft as the melting snow outside, “I love you.”

Scylla felt like she couldn’t breathe. Her mind raced, all jumbled in twists and turns that she worked to sort out. She made herself focus on nothing but what was right in front of her. On the woman whose hands she held. The distance to the car idling nearby. Nothing else mattered in that moment. Not the sergeant. Not the medal still in Raelle’s grasp. Not the mine a few miles away. Nothing. Only them. Only the pounding of both their hearts. “Then, stay with me. Be with me. This is your choice. No one else’s. Your life. Please.” If she let her mind wander for even a moment, she’d find herself engulfed in anger and sadness and heartache so strong it would burn her from the inside out. Anger at Raelle for doing this. At the army and the Accord for forcing witches to serve. For the universe for making Edwin sick. At a world that didn’t give a damn about anyone, no matter how sweet and brave and beautiful they were. “I chose you. _You_. We’re in this together. No matter what.” Her chest hurt worse than it ever had, “Don’t make me lose the only person I’ve ever loved.” 

“Pvt. Collar.” the sergeant’s voice called out in the tiny home.

Raelle dragged her hands away from Scylla’s and quickly wiped at her face, “Be careful. Roads are slick. Can’ see much.” Her voice wavered, strained, like the tide rolling back out to sea.

“Raelle,”

“We should be leaving if we want to catch the train.” the officer spoke coolly, presence looming large. 

The train?

She was leaving now?

Scylla desperately searched Raelle’s eyes, her face.

All she saw was blank defeat.

Goddess.

Raelle nodded, eyes on the floor, and stepped back. 

“Put your medal on and grab your things, Collar.” the sergeant ordered, “Two minutes to be in the car.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Raelle,” Scylla snagged the front of her shirt, “what did you do?”

Raelle gave her a watery crooked grin, “Made a choice.”

Scylla jerked her close.

It fully dawned on her.

Raelle hadn't chosen her. 

Them.

Life.

The phantom imprint of the medal against her skin burned hotter than any flame.

“Raelle, please. We can go right now.”

Raelle cupped the side of her face, smile beautiful and broken, “I can’t.”

“You’re going to join the army, instead?” her desperation began to give in to rage. 

Her hand dropped away, “Already did.”

The world fell out from under her.

Raelle had taken the oath.

No.

An understanding hand fell on Scylla’s shoulder, Edwin’s comforting voice breaking through, “Let’s get ya home, Scylla.”

Scylla shook her head as Raelle began to walk away, “Raelle!”

Raelle stilled. Her head ducked further, body trembling.

Then, she kept walking toward the front door.

Scylla broke free from Edwin and ran after her. She grabbed at the back of Raelle’s shirt and whipped her around, swallowing the surprised gasp in a brutal unforgiving kiss borne of grief so thick it nearly overtook them both. Scylla wrapped an arm around her back, the other cupping her girl’s head, holding her in place, not letting her leave.

Scylla kissed her with everything she had. 

Tearing her lips away, she sucked in a lungful of air, panting forcefully, “I love you. You go where I go. You are not doing this. I’m not going to let you do this.”

Raelle’s throat bobbed, chest rising and falling as she tried to breathe.

“Stay with me.” Scylla pleaded. “I am not giving up on you.”

“It’s ok.” Raelle got out. “I’ll be ok, Scylla.”

“No, Raelle. No.” Scylla felt a tear roll down her cheek, “I choose you.”

“I choose you, too.” Raelle finally kissed her cheek. Her temple. She closed her eyes as she nuzzled the tip of her nose against the curve of her jaw, “Don’t let them find you. Don’t look back.”

No.

She was not getting out of this.

Scylla was not letting her leave like this.

They were not ending because of this.

Raelle whispered faintly, "Only way out for me is in."

The only way she was ever leaving Coal Town was through the military.

Scylla refused to accept this. Refused to let her go. 

She twisted her head and kissed the blonde, cutting off her thoughts, words dying away.

“Pvt. Collar.” Sgt. Quartermaine stood by the front door, poise sharp but a hint of something like understanding and sympathy hidden in her eyes, “Time to go.”

The order broke through the bubble surrounding the young couple. 

Raelle mumbled against Scylla’s lips, “See ya around, Scyl.”

Then, she was gone, Scylla’s hands empty, holding nothing but thin air.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy all! Hope you enjoyed this latest installment. You know how this works, folks. You get a virtual invisible non-tracking style cookie for reading. Two for reading and leaving a kudos. Three for reading and leaving me a comment (here, Tumblr, wherever).
> 
> Thanks for taking the time to scroll through this one.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It smelled of blood.
> 
> The bitter coppery scent permeated the air. Swept through the walls and doors and stained the floors and windows. It melded with the fresh earthy sweet scent of the flowers neatly planted in the nearby mulch, the sun causing the flecks of red dotting the ground to glimmer on the heated concrete and blacktop. 
> 
> What was once a peaceful idyllic day was now thunderous fearful chaos.
> 
> Sirens roared. People ran around, some lost, some confused, all afraid. All terrified.
> 
> All panicked. 
> 
> Bodies littered the ground. Some were still breathing. 
> 
> Most were not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This really was only meant to be 1 part. Then 3. Now...well...here we are. Sorry?
> 
> If you haven't, take a quick look at the updated tags (I'm assuming I updated them). If not - there is some canonical violence in here. Death. Mayhem. Etc. Beware.

_ “And, you, Raelle? How did your quiz go?”  _

_ Scylla glanced over at the girl with freshly scrubbed hands yet somehow sported a streak of black dirt across her cheek seated next to her at the kitchen table, her own answer accepted by her mother and father with a proud approving smile before her mother’s caring and expectant eyes ticked over to the blonde.  _

_ Raelle poked the tins of her fork at the clump of creamy yellowish tinged mashed potatoes formed into a tiny pile along with a stray bright green pea and smattering of brown crumbs mixed in. The fork stilled as the focus turned to her, and Scylla squeezed the tense hand she held under the table encouragingly. _

_ “Oh...um...alright.” Raelle shrugged and wet her lips. Her eyes darted off to the side before rising to meet the older witch’s. She set the fork down but unconsciously fiddled with the handle, “Got a B.” _

_ “That’s great.” Scylla spoke up immediately and flashed her a grin. _

_ “Yes, that’s really good. Well done.” her father congratulated as her mom nodded along. _

_ “I see those late night study sessions you two had paid off.” _

_ Raelle’s face turned redder than the horizon at sunrise or the forest fire that burnt through nearly a quarter of the mountain a few years back, her face just as hot as if the flames were crackling and licking at her cheeks right at that moment. The teasing and praise didn’t happen often growing up. Not like that, and not from anyone other than her own pop who was usually gone at the mine or too tired to do much other than check in to make sure his only child was still cracking open a book and letting them pretend like she had a future beyond the oath or a coal dusted helmet. Even after some time had passed, it still felt weird at times to feel the coziness and structure of the family that let her eat dinner with them and whose daughter let her kiss her and kissed her back.  _

_ She awkwardly cleared her throat as Scylla rolled her eyes at her parents’ knowing looks. _

_ “We studied, mom.” Scylla patted Raelle’s thigh. _

_ They had. _

_ Raelle worked hard to get that B. _

_ There might have been some incentives for her to get a study question correct. _

_ Incentives that involved soft searching hands against smooth skin and a wet playfully teasing tongue. _

_ Rubbing the blush from her cheek, Raelle picked her fork back up and scooped the last bite into her mouth, “Scylla’s a good tutor. Very...encouraging.” She caught Scylla’s eye and winked, earning herself a grin and a glint in deep blue that hinted at her being congratulated another way once dinner was over. _

_ “Are you staying the night, Raelle?” the matriarch asked as she sipped at her glass of water. _

_ Raelle nodded and swallowed, “If that’s alright, Mrs. Ramshorn. Pop’s at the mine t’night. Might go on back in the morning, though.” She would need a fresh set of clothes, at the very least. _

_ “If your dad is working tonight, that settles it.” She stood up and grabbed her plate, “We can drive you home tomorrow whenever you’re ready. No rush.” _

_ “Oh, you don’ have ta…” _

_ “We will drive you when you want to go home.” There was no arguing with that tone. “If you’re done, bring your plate to the sink, please. You two are on dish duty tonight. Trash also needs to be taken out.” She caught Raelle’s gaze and held it, “You know you are more than welcome here, Raelle. Maybe you should leave a few things here in case you stay over again. Change of clothes. Your schoolbooks.” _

_ Scylla looked at her mother, torn between gratitude and overwhelming warmth at what she was offering to her girlfriend.  _

_ Raelle fidgeted in her chair, head ducking at the offer. _

_ Scylla leaned over and kissed her temple gently before bringing the calloused hand that still had a few specks of dark dust under the nails between both of hers, holding it tightly. _

It smelled of blood.

The bitter coppery scent permeated the air. Swept through the walls and doors and stained the floors and windows. It melded with the fresh earthy sweet scent of the flowers neatly planted in the nearby mulch, the sun causing the flecks of red dotting the ground to glimmer on the heated concrete and blacktop. 

What was once a peaceful idyllic day was now thunderous fearful chaos.

Sirens roared. People ran around, some lost, some confused, all afraid. All terrified.

All panicked. 

Bodies littered the ground. Some were still breathing. 

Most were not.

Finally, they experienced a small fraction of what witches felt every day of their lives.

Finally, they knew what it was like to live in fear every moment, wondering if they were going to be hurt. Killed. Murdered for no reason except that they were born.

Because they were hated.

Except, these people were hated because they earned it. 

They chose to be who they were. To force others to die for them. To force others to kill and be killed because of them. 

Civilians always hated witches, except, now, witches were finally not the only ones who had to fear for their lives.

Witches were not going to be held down and held back by chains and cages. By oaths and accords.

Civilians would not be the only ones to know freedom and to use it as a tool to oppress and demolish those they saw as  _ other _ .

They wouldn’t get to use their freedom to have innocent people slaughtered.

Not anymore.

The remnants of a balloon, the tattered blue material stretched and frayed, still floated on the gentle spring breeze. The same breeze that warmed the land once covered in snow and ice, that helped to melt away the dark dreary winter and bring about the colorful comfort of life on the wings of the seasonal change. 

What was once rebirth was now utter destruction and death.

Or, at least, it was in the eyes of some.

Scylla watched the cacophony of sights and sounds from her vantage point off in the distance. The grass tickled her ankles left exposed by her straight high waisted jeans, the colorful denim cutting off far above her flat canvas sneakers, the color not quite matching the rest of her outfit. Her hair danced around her face, and she snagged a few loose strands to twirl them behind her ear.

She shouldn’t be there.

This wasn’t her assignment.

But, she needed to see it.

Hear it.

Feel it.

Needed to know that this was the right choice. The right path.

That it went off without a hitch and accomplished what they set out to do. To achieve.

To win.

Liberation.

Freedom.

Life.

Life is death is life again.

She tucked her hands in her pockets and scanned the area.

The agent had done well. Did everything as told. Walked into the town square with her balloon and proceeded to let the country know that the Spree were there. 

That the fight was there.

Inhaling deeply, her nose wrinkled involuntarily at the stench of death that hovered over all of them.

This wasn’t what she imagined when she was younger. 

The brunette snorted. What she imagined. She had imagined a life. A happy life. One where she was with her parents. With her girlfriend. With people she loved.

People who loved her.

People who were gone.

People taken from her.

Her hands tightened in her pockets, and her jaw locked painfully.

The Accord had taken everything from her. 

Her parents were dead.

Killed.

Murdered.

_ Scylla hurried along the road. The sun was setting, and she wanted to get home before dark. Normally, she wouldn’t mind wandering around at night, but something inside of her told her to get back. A phantom feeling nudged her toward the small ranch style home her family had moved into only a couple weeks before. The furniture was outdated and the pipes under the sink kept acting up, but it worked. It was a place they could stay on their journey west toward the coast. Toward where rumors spoke of witches setting up a community for those who didn’t serve, a quiet out of the way place that welcomed dodgers. Let them live their lives peacefully without having to run anymore. A place they could be happy and free. _

_ A place they didn’t have to worry about anything other than their own lives. About what to make for breakfast or if they should invite people over to play cards that evening. _

_ Not about military police or hiding who they were because a civilian may turn them in. _

_ She swallowed thickly. _

_ Not about having to enlist early. Not about having to watch their girlfriend leave, the taste of her last kiss bittersweet as the cold seeped into her bones, far sharper than the winter winds could ever be. _

_ They were going someplace safe.  _

_ But, they weren’t there yet, and, for some reason, she knew she had to go home. Go to her parents. _

_ Porter had been annoyed. Tried to get her to stay with him. Tried to drag her into another kiss, to maneuver her onto his bed. _

_ She rolled her eyes at the memory of the boy.  _

_ He was nice. Sweet. Friendly. She could talk to him about being a dodger since he was one too. His family had been traveling with theirs for a few months. _

_ He had feelings for her. _

_ He called her his girlfriend. _

_ She wasn’t in love with him. _

_ He was a distraction, if anything.  _

_ Someone to help with the loneliness. _

_ To help her not always think about bright blue eyes and a charming grin. _

_ Think about kisses under the stars on the back porch and holding hands while walking home from school. _

_ About heated gasps and nipping teeth. _

_ About mournful looks as the rain pounded on the roof and a car drove away, leaving her alone. _

_ Picking up her pace and shooing away her thoughts, Scylla spotted her house, empty flower pot next to the closed garage door. She skipped up to the front door and wrestled her key out of her pocket, quickly unlocking it and slipping inside. _

_ “Mom? Dad?” she called out. _

_ She could hear the radio on, playing the evening news broadcast. _

_ As she heard footsteps coming towards her, she didn’t see the truck that had been turning down her road as she walked by pulling up to a stop outside. _

_ She didn’t know she would be crouched low underneath a shelf in the garage minutes later. _

_ She didn’t know she would hear the army kill her parents without a second of hesitation soon after. _

_ Because they were witches. _

_ Witches who chose not to serve. _

_ Dodgers. _

_ Didn’t care that they were kind or smart or thoughtful or brave. _

_ Only that they defied the Accord. _

_ That they didn’t bow down to conscription. _

_ They would die for civilians one way or another. _

Taking a deep breath, Scylla willed herself to remain calm. Unaffected. To rein in the anger and pain and transform it into something useful. Something meaningful. Something that mattered.

The Spree.

What she hadn’t known that day, as she hid in the garage, shivering and broken, was that she would find a way to gain justice for her parents. For Raelle, who had to take an oath she never wanted to because there was no other choice. For everyone who had loved and lost and gained nothing. Witches who had to sacrifice their lives for people who never wanted them. Never cared about them. Went about as if people weren’t dying every single day because of them.

Because wars were popping up left and right. The army deployed in numbers never before heard of. For wars that had nothing to do with them. Were for nothing but power and greed. Proxy wars. They called them proxy wars. 

It was only so civilians could do as they pleased and send witches to die for them.

Get rid of those they saw as inferior or different. 

Exterminate them in a way that served their own needs and purposes while doing so.

Never even gave witches a choice. A chance. The opportunity to live their lives the way they wanted to.

Go to the beach or join the circus or be in love.

Be with their family.

Settle down.

See the world.

Not die.

The second Scylla met the haggard and angry witches who had the same glint in their eyes and grief in their hearts that she had, the idea was sprung.

To fight for those who couldn’t.

To win justice and freedom and change for witches.

The final war.

The one true war.

Her eyes closed for a moment as the sounds of weeping sobs echoed in the square.

She had been hesitant, at first. 

She had so much pain inside. So much agony.

But, when the plan to kill was raised, she paused.

She thought of Edwin Collar. 

Goddess, Ed. She hadn’t seen him since that day Raelle left. The day she left.

She wondered if he was still alive. Still working the mine. If he got better. If Raelle wrote to him. If he knew how Raelle was. 

But, then her thoughts turned to everyone else.

The boys who savagely beat Raelle whenever they could because she was a witch.

The civilians who sneered at all of them. Acted like they were better, superior.

Like witches were being dealt a favor because they were forced to join the army.

Discriminated against. Abused. Killed.

Her parents had to hide who they were. 

Yet, they still died. Were still killed.

Because they refused to die for civilians.

Even Edwin wasn’t accepted, ostracized for marrying a witch, for having a witch daughter.

Her partners told her over and over, told everyone over and over.

This was the only way. 

Civilians would not let them go. Would not give up on the Accord without a fight.

Peaceful means never worked before. Wars still raged. Witches still suffered.

The fight had to happen.

Nothing would change until blood was spilled.

Blood had already been spilled. By hundreds of thousands of witches across the world.

It couldn’t be only witch blood spilt anymore.

So, Scylla gave in.

The first attack happened only minutes prior.

The first true battle for freedom.

The first time civilians were forced to bleed.To recognize what was happening, what they caused, what they were responsible for.

What the price of slavery cost everyone.

As the images of the dead burned into her memory, Scylla fought against the regret bubbling in her chest.

There was no other way.

All other attempts had been squashed immediately, the army striking quickly and mercilessly. 

Their voices were quieted.

Their pleas left unheard.

Slavery continued and witches died. They were born to do nothing more than sacrifice themselves for people who looked at them with hatred.

Not anymore.

It couldn’t go on anymore.

Scylla had lost everything.

Everything. 

She was done giving up her entire world with nothing in return except pure agonizing grief.

Opening her eyes, the rumble of trucks shook the ground like an earthquake. Scylla tilted her head in the direction of the loud overwhelming noise and blinked.

Large dark transport trucks appeared near the edge of the scene. The military symbol painted on the doors.

The army.

There had been reports that a few units were nearby conducting training exercises. The others had assumed they would be gone before the attack happened. 

Scylla grit her teeth.

Of course witches would be sent to help.

They fought for civilians. Died for them. Helped them.

Still were not good enough to be given the choice of how they wanted to live their lives.

If they even  _ wanted _ to live their lives.

Scylla watched as soldiers streamed out of the trucks. Some raced to the wounded while others corralled the onlookers, stony faced as people shouted at them or tried to push past. A few officers, the stripes on their shoulders stark in the sunlight, began to bark out orders as a perimeter was firmly and strongly set up.

Quick and efficient.

Their training was well placed, it seemed.

She wanted to ask them if they truly wanted to help. If they knew and understood what the Spree wanted.

If this was worth sacrificing for.

If they knew these people would sooner kill them than thank them for their help.

That they were fighting against their own freedom. Their own kind. Their own futures.

Biting back her anger, she straightened her spine and pulled back her shoulders.

She should leave.

She had seen what she needed to. 

Civilians now felt a small modicum of the fear that witches lived with their entire lives.

She still refused to acknowledge the regret clawing at her throat. The voices that sounded so much like her parents echoing in the back of her mind. Telling her this wasn’t right. This wasn’t the way.

The way.

_ The way out was in. _

She pressed her lips together and shoved at the memories. The ghosts.

Ready to step back, her eyes took in the drama one last time.

That’s when she spotted it.

Spotted her.

Familiar blonde braids were bent over a bleeding body. Calloused palms smoothed along a broken chest and gently touched a bruised throat. The soldier crouched down low, seeming to say something calming to the whimpering boy before locking eyes with him.

Scylla felt her breath hitch and her hands begin to shake.

The boy’s bleeding slowed to a stop. The bruises began to fade. 

The soldier was healing him.

Fixed him.

Scylla couldn’t look away.

After a few moments, the boy sat up. The soldier pressed a hand to his back to steady him and gave him a few quick instructions before standing up, another soldier appearing to guide the boy away.

It couldn’t be.

It wasn’t possible.

Scylla gulped, a familiar sting piercing the backs of her eyes.

No.

It wasn’t true.

Yet.

That slouch.

The dip of her shoulders, now covered in a grey uniform jacket.

Hands, strong yet gentle. Cracked yet unyielding.

Braids along one side of her head, some hidden behind loose golden locks.

No.

No. No. No.

As if sensing eyes on her, the soldier peered over toward Scylla.

Blue locked with blue.

Scylla felt the world disappear.

Her heart stopped.

The air grew colder.

The once busy town square was gone in an instant, replaced with dirt covered roads and towering trees, branches empty and the sun shimmering through. The faint smell of coal dust and mountain air teased her senses. She could hear the distant chime of a bell and whistles signaling a shift change. Soft phantom lips gently pressed against her own as the winter breeze tugged at her cheeks and painted them with an icy touch.

It couldn’t be true.

There wasn’t a doubt in her heart.

Raelle Collar stood yards away from her.

_ Raelle whispered faintly, "Only way out for me is in." _

The way out is in. The way over is under.

Scylla’s chin quivered as she watched emotions filter across her former lover’s face.

Confusion.

Surprise.

Disbelief.

Hope.

Love.

Goddess, her eyes were so soft. Looked at her like they had so long ago. 

Like she was the only thing Raelle would ever want to look at.

Like she was the answer to every question.

The only thing Raelle ever wanted.

The blonde’s mouth opened as if to say something, but no sound came out. Her body shifted forward, leaning towards the brunette.

Towards the girl she had given her heart to and never got back.

Seeking her out. 

Always moving toward her.

The only time she hadn’t, the only time she moved away, was when she left.

When she got in a car with an officer and drove far far away.

Scylla felt an ache in her chest. An ache she hadn’t allowed herself to feel in years.

That only broke through late at night, when the moon was high and the air was too quiet, her mind too loud. When her body craved the comfort of thin loving arms and the whisper of a drawl against the nape of her neck.

Her chest pulled and pushed and felt like a fist was squeezing her ribs.

A tear clung to the corner of her eye. A shimmering droplet she didn’t feel until it slowly crept down her cheek.

It hurt.

It hurt so much.

Yet.

It felt like coming home.

Like stepping into a warm house after being outside in the cold for so long. A sharp sting promising to soon be replaced by comfort and care.

It felt like she couldn’t breathe.

It felt like she’d finally come up for air after sinking to the darkest murkiest depths of the ocean.

And ocean she never got to see with Raelle.

Then, as if she was in a tunnel, everything black and empty and gone except for the other girl, she watched as Raelle carefully mouthed her name, the syllables dancing across her lips like a silent song.

_ “Scylla.” _

Through all the chaos, she could hear her voice. Raspy and slow, just like when she would wake up in the morning, the cold grey light dripping through the window and across the small bed they shared. Voice a honeyed drawl that rumbled deep in Raelle’s chest and coated her tongue like molasses. A whisper on the breath of a tender kiss followed by warm sleepy hands that snuck across her belly and cradled her closer.

Goddess, she missed her.

Missed everything about her.

Felt everything come crashing down on her. All the pain and grief and love and desire that she shoved away, locked in a box deep inside her heart and did everything she could to pretend was gone, lost forever. Was something she could never have. Not again. She had love and happiness for a short while in that dusty dirty beautiful town, but, that was it. Once they left, the bubble was gone. Broken. Shattered. The haze of childhood fantasy and hope dashed away like waves on the rocky shore.

Without warning, Raelle’s head whipped to the side, the shared gaze snapping apart, the spell broken.

The link undone.

An officer strolled up to Raelle, hands on her hips, frown deepening by the second.

Raelle nodded to whatever was being said to her before the officer marched away.

The blonde glanced down at her boots for a moment and chewed on her bottom lip, clearly in thought.

This time, when she looked over at Scylla, confusion coated her gaze and caused her mouth to drop into a frown.

The question was silent but deafening.

What was Scylla doing there?

Scylla met her gaze.

A burning itch rose in her belly, but she pushed it back down, ignored it. Just like she did with so many other feelings.

It took a second.

Only a second.

One heartbeat.

One breath.

But she saw it.

Raelle’s head seemed to jerk back.

Realization dawned with a disbelieving horror, an unaccepting refusal.

The blonde blinked, eyes narrowing in thought and brow knitting together. Her eyes flickered, lashes twitching. Her head shook, not willing to give in to the truth laid out before her.

That this was clearly an attack by a witch.

By the Spree.

And, Scylla was standing right there, watching.

“Ramshorn.” The voice of one of the other founders called out from behind her. “We have to go. Army is sweeping the area.”

Scylla didn’t look away from Raelle.

Raelle, whose face was slowly dropping.

Whose gaze was hardening.

Who Scylla was fighting for, had always fought for. Had always chosen.

Scylla should be scared. Worried.

The army was there. 

She was in even more danger than before.

She was spotted by a soldier.

A soldier who knew she was a witch.

Yet, she couldn’t be afraid.

This was Raelle.

She trusted her. No matter what.

Raelle wouldn’t hurt her.

Not like that.

A large hand landed on Scylla’s shoulder, and she tamped down a grimace.

“Let’s go, Scylla.” the other witch pulled.

She could feel Raelle’s eyes on her as she turned and walked away.

_ “I once went to this beach. Labor-in-Pain. It was the safest place I’ve ever been.” she confessed. _

_ Raelle pressed her fingers into the small of her back, “Sounds magnificent.” _

_ “Yeah.” _

_ Slowly, Raelle lifted her chin, mouth brushing against the base of her throat and skimming up to peck her cheek, “What are we waiting for?” _

_ “We’ll run away?” _

_ “Take the bus and not stop till we hit water.” Raelle nosed along her jaw. _

_ Scylla tilted her head, catching her lips in a sweet kiss, “We can.” _

_ “What?” _

_ “Go.” _

_ Raelle pulled back slightly, blinking, eyes searching, asking, saying, thinking. _

_ Scylla leaned forward and kissed her again. “I’ll take you to the safest place I’ve ever known.” _

Scylla could still smell the bittersweet scent of coal dust and fresh mountain air, hear the whistle and chime for shift change, and feel the ghostly grin of an enamored teenager against the side of her neck as she laid alone in bed hours later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright folks, I messed with something that was absolutely fine as it was. Total mistake to do so? The new update was ok? Horrendous? I really should focus on other things? It was passable? Let me know! 
> 
> And, really, should go without saying, but, I adore you all. 1 cookie for reading. 2 cookies for reading and a kudos. 3 cookies and a fist bump for reading and being generous enough to leave a comment.

**Author's Note:**

> You know the drill folks. 1 cookies for reading. 2 cookies for reading and leaving a kudos. 3 cookies and a virtual hug for reading and leaving a comment.


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